


It'll Last Longer

by jouissant



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:44:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/pseuds/jouissant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pinto try and film themselves, and get predictably distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It'll Last Longer

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I so obsessed with Chris Pine not coming? It is a mystery.

“Take a fucking picture,” Chris says. “It’ll--ah. It’ll last longer.”

He shifts under Zach’s gaze like it’s a touch. It might as well be--he feels like Zach’s touching him every other way it’s possible to touch a person. He’s lying on his side, clamped and plugged and trussed, a neat package. He has a bow and everything--when Zach gets into bondage, he really goes to town.

Zach crawls over to Chris on the bed, crosses his legs and hauls Chris up by the shoulders so his head is in Zach’s lap. His dick is half hard, and Chris tries to nose his way over to it, but Zach shifts so it’s just out of reach. He scratches lightly through Chris’s hair, and a shudder runs the length of Chris’s body. It’s funny how the little things all seem magnified like this.

“You know, that might not be such a bad idea,” Zach says quietly.

“Huh?”

“A...a picture. Or, like...”

Chris cranes his neck as best he can, trying to look into Zach’s face. “Like what?”

“Like...I don’t know, sometimes I want to film you. When you’re like this.”

Chris huffs a laugh. He’d put his arms around Zach if he could, but his arms are down between his legs, bound at the wrists.

_Like this._

He can feel the cool metal of his cage up against the heel of one hand. He thrusts just a little, so his entrapped cock moves all of a piece. It feels nice, the bulk of it against his hands, his thighs. That and the press of the ropes and the pillow of Zach’s lap would be enough to put Chris to sleep, if not for the way he’s stretched around the plug in his ass, or the way a heavy length of chain runs between the silver clamps biting at his nipples. _This_ is pretty genius on Zach’s part, if he thinks about it. Because he can’t let go like this, not really. Not all the way. Snug in his shell, the underlying throb is just on the pleasurable side of irritating, a delicious grain of sand that Chris would worry into a pearl if he could.

Zach’s apparently changed his stance on the dick thing, because he runs the head along Chris’s lips. Chris laps at it, and Zach lets out a breath.

“Do it, then,” Chris says, lips moving against Zach’s skin. “Film me sucking you off.”

Zach groans, a breathy sound that crumbles into a laugh, like he can’t quite believe what Chris is saying. “How?”

“With your phone or something.” He nips lightly at the side of Zach’s dick. “Mm, you’ve gotta feed it to me, baby.”

“Oh, fuck,” Zach says. “Hold on, hold on, I’ve got to get my fucking phone first.” He clambers off the bed, depositing Chris’s head softly on the mattress as he does so. “You sure about this?” he says over his shoulder. 

The phone’s only on the dresser, so he’s back with it soon enough, pulling Chris into his lap again. The angle is incredibly awkward; Chris has next to no leverage. It’ll all be up to Zach. Which is fine with Chris, for now.

“Okay,” Zach is saying. “Let me just—here we go.” He giggles, and ruffles Chris’s hair. “God, you look hot. You sure you’re okay with committing this to film? I mean, there are other ways to get my dick in your mouth.”

Zach knows him too well, is the thing.

“I…I think I want to see it,” Chris says quietly. “The way you see it, I mean. And I don’t know, you can always delete it after.”

Zach’s quiet for a minute. Chris imagines he can hear him running through a list of eventualities in his head. Then: “Shit, okay. You don’t have to tell me twice. And yeah, we can always—yeah.”

It’s not the easiest of tasks, even considering their typical MO. Zach ends up cradling Chris’s head and feeding his dick back into Chris’s throat. He’s muttering under his breath, little whispery encouragements that are more for himself than for Chris, or maybe they’re for the video. When Zach’s all the way in he stills, and Chris can feel him filling out against his tongue. He takes a long breath through his nose and fights his gag reflex—after all this time, it’s still a challenge. And that’s it, he’s plugged up, wrapped up in Zach and full of him too. Zach tastes bitter on his tongue and he has a noseful of the slightly sweaty skin at Zach’s groin, but it’s the furthest thing from objectionable that Chris can imagine.

“That’s it,” Zach says, louder. It must be for the recording. “That’s my baby.”

He moves, getting up onto his knees. He can thrust like that, and he does, fingers tangled in Chris’s hair and skating along his jawline. Chris isn’t really looking at much anymore. His vision is blurred, too close in to focus. He lets his eyelids drop and lets Zach take his mouth. Even up on his knees he can’t fuck Chris with the abandon he’s used to; the angle isn’t great. It’s more that Zach’s jerking himself off with Chris’s mouth, a mix of Chris’s lips and Chris’s tongue and Zach’s single shaky hand.

“Look how good you look,” Zach says. Chris half expects him to address some invisible audience, to narrate.

_And now we see the wild Christopher in his natural habitat. But what’s this? He seems to have been caught in a trap—_

He doesn’t, though. It’s just a slightly louder version of Zach’s usual sex monologue, a running commentary on Chris’s various virtues and shortcomings, the ratio of which depends on Zach’s mood. This afternoon Chris seems to be falling on the praiseworthy side of the spectrum. Which makes Chris happy—he can’t really let himself go like this, but he can bask in Zach’s approval. He can think about the careful way Zach put the whole thing together: lying Chris out on the bed and instructing him to stay still. Zach was all over him, industrious, lifting limbs and moving Chris around, wrapping and rewrapping and slipping his fingers between the loops of rope and Chris’s skin to check for slack.

Chris loves the way it feels when it all starts to come together, when he can relax his limbs, go limp and yet still be held firmly in position. Zach likes to bind him first, because he means Chris doesn’t have any recourse when Zach starts to play.

Now, he’s moving the head of his dick in and out of Chris’s mouth. Chris’s lips feel swollen with use, his face slick with the drool Zach’s spread around. 

“Those fucking lips,” Zach says. “I had to get you all filled up. Right? Look, look—” he pulls out of Chris’s mouth and crawls down the bed, clapping a hand on one of Chris’s ass cheeks, prying it up so the camera can get a full view of the thick plug nestled in Chris’s hole.

“God,” Zach says. “Look at that shit. How’s that feel, huh?” 

Zach sounds a little manic now, breathing fast. He whips around and gets the phone up in Chris’s face. His dick is shiny with Chris’s spit, and the way he’s gasping Chris estimates he’s, like, a couple well-timed strokes from blasting all over him. The thought makes him smile rapturously for the camera.

“It feels good,” Chris says. “Letting you use me like this.”

“Yeah, it better be. Because you don’t get to get off, do you, Pine.”

Zach reaches down and tugs at the metal cage between Chris’s legs. Chris spreads as well as he can in his bonds, which isn’t very well, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Zach. He moans as a pulse of blood threatens to get him hard against the cage. It’s not the worst thing he can imagine, but it’s more than a little torturous. “No,” he moans. “God. No, I don’t. I can’t.”

Zach slips his fingers between the slim, elegantly curved metal bars and runs his fingertips over the soft skin they contain. “I almost want to take this off,” he says. “For the video and all. Get you nice and hard.”

Chris swallows. It’s not exactly what today was supposed to be about. There’s a particular kind of headspace, one he’s been building for hours—it makes the denial a gift, for both of them. _From_ both of them, really. Chris offers it up and Zach imposes. Because Zach knows Chris does better with the occasional boundary, and Chris—well, he knows how much Zach likes to play with his toys.

“You want to come today, baby? I’m feeling magnanimous. And it would make a good show, wouldn’t it?”

Chris bites his lip, contemplating. He must wait a beat too long, because Zach kneels down and rests his hands on either side of Chris’s face, stroking over his cheekbones with steady thumbs. “What is it?” Zach asks. “You okay?”

Chris nods. “I’m okay,” he says. His face gets hot. “It’s just that—”

“What?”

“I wasn’t supposed to come today,” he says, his voice betraying the slight bemusement he feels. Articulating this…sometimes it makes him feel a little silly, because whether or not he has an orgasm is, in the long run, immaterial. At the same time, though, in this moment it manages to feel like the most important thing in the world.

“Oh,” Zach says, kissing him on the mouth. “Well.” He looks contemplative. “How about this,” he says. “How about you take this—“ He sets the phone next to Chris on the mattress. “You take this, and you can tell it all about why you like keeping yourself tucked away for me.”  
“It’s just going to film, like, the ceiling.”

“Fuck, I don’t care. I want to hear you.” Zach reaches over and fiddles with the phone, maybe queuing up another recording. If he even cares about the footage beyond the moment, Chris guesses they can figure out how to splice the clips together later.

“How do you want me?” Chris asks.

“Mmm, just like this. I love you all hogtied. You look like a side of beef.” 

Zach leans over and grabs for a pillow, Chris lifting up just enough for Zach to slide it between the bed and the side of Chris’s head.

“I mean, technically I’m not hogtied. That’d be—”

Zach cuts him off with a smack on the ass, the rope biting into Chris’s skin beneath Zach’s hand. “Shut up about that,” Zach says sweetly. “And talk to me about your dick. Or my dick. Because it’s mine right now, isn’t it, Christopher.”

He lets his fingers wander to the base of the plug, turning it slightly like he’s trying to corkscrew it out of Chris’s body. He flattens his palm over the base and presses in, and Chris groans as the plug shifts inside him.

“Zach,” Chris says, his dick heavier between his legs.

“Talk. And don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“Fine,” Chris says. “I—I like it. You’re right. You’re always right about stuff like that.”  
Zach gives a hum of self-satisfaction. Now that he has two hands free, he’s started stroking himself in earnest, his other hand still toying with the lip of the plug. He runs his fingers along the juncture of silicone and skin, like just the fact of the toy entering Chris’s body is doing it for him. 

“Keep going,” Zach says.

Chris laughs breathlessly. “You’d get off on that, wouldn’t you. Hearing that you’re right. Fucking typical. But don’t go getting cockier than you already are, Quinto. You—ah—you’re not always in what way —but this. Zach, you’re right about this.”

Zach just moans in reply. He’s not looking at Chris; he’s looking down at the dark head of his dick, the way the skin bunches around it on the upstroke.

 _So pretty_ , Chris thinks dreamily. Such a nice thing to have in your mouth.

“It feels so good when you lock me away,” Chris says roughly. “When you tie me up. You could—you could tie me up and leave me like this for as long as you wanted. Plug me up. Shit, you could put something in my dick, too, so I can’t piss, can’t move. Just fucking lie here and fill up and think about being yours—”

“Oh, _fuck._ ” 

Zach falls against Chris, his weight on Chris’s flank, and for a second Chris really does feel like nothing more than a prop. Zach grips the base of the plug, fingers scrabbling against the inside of Chris’s thigh, but instead of fucking it deeper into Chris he draws it out so fast Chris curses.

“Sorry, sorry,” Zach babbles. “Oh, God—”

He makes a squeaky, panicky noise. One hand jacks Chris’s leg up as high as it can go in its bondage, which isn’t very far at all. Then, with another wretched cry, he thrusts blindly into Chris’s slack hole. He’s overcome, his aim predictably shitty. He butts up against Chris’s tailbone, rutting like an animal and grabbing at Chris’s ass with both hands. He shoots what feels like half in and half out of Chris’s body, warm and sticky over his thighs.

“Jesus Christ,” Zach says. Body heaving, he reaches down and guides himself all the way inside in the midst of the aftershocks, dragging his softening dick through his own come. He slumps over, working his jaw over Chris’s hip, sinking his teeth in and kissing across the twin arcs of pain they leave.

“Chris,” he murmurs weakly, and it’s an endearment, a promise all by itself. Zach pillows his head on his arm, drapes his arm over Chris’s body. He finds Chris’s bound wrists and closes a hand over Chris’s hands. Chris moves them so they stroke against Zach’s palm, and it’s enough. He feels Zach’s smile against his skin, his cheek slick with sweat.

“You’re a good sport, Pine,” Zach says after awhile.

“Mmm,” Chris says. “Don’t have to be. It’s—” he shakes his head against the pillow. “I love it.”

Zach’s dick shrugs free of Chris’s body, slippery and warm. “I love it too,” he sighs.

Chris settles on the pillow and closes his eyes. Zach’s fingers twine through the cage again, but Chris’s dick remains blissfully unmoved. His heart, however, is another story.

He guesses the phone stopped recording awhile back, but he’s not going to check.


End file.
